Why is it so easy to be content when you are two years old?
It is not as if there is no material for concern. Who knows if this little guy's daddy will lose his job next week, or his mother may fall carrying laundry and break both legs. It happens. Then there are global problems. Foreclosure is rampant, his
generation will be crushed by the national debt, and if he had any ambitions of being a shrimp fisherman in the Gulf, well forget it.
But he looks pretty satisfied with just a juice box.
Now it is not as if I am from some other planet and have missed the notorious behavior of thwarted preschoolers. I have escaped from my share of grocery stores with a flailing child in my arms. I got a black eye when my second son threw a
book at me.
But there is another side of small people that is so subtle it can go unnoticed. They can be happy with what is.
I had a little girl who carried on a conversation with her shoelaces in the car on a long trip. I took a little boy to the thrift store and he was positively joyful to find a key chain shaped like a pickle.
There is a quality about young children that
leaves me speechless. They choose the parents they have. If I were in a line up of fifty women that included heiresses, rock stars, Fortune 500 entrepreneurs and Minnie Mouse, my baby would pick me every time. Even if I had recently declared a ban on sweetened cereal. Kids are on occasion incensed by the lunch menu or the absence of popsicles, but ask for a Mommy upgrade? Never.
God gave him this mother and father, and he is not
trading.
I like hanging with small folk. They are good role models.
